


we walk in the world of safe people

by twistedingenue



Series: Basic Bitches [5]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Declassification, F/M, Family, Press and Tabloids, archery porn, channeling your inner CJ Cregg, mining the comics for ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedingenue/pseuds/twistedingenue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out, declassification is the easy part. This is how you take up the space you deserve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

There have been far better plane rides. Ones that didn’t involve Darcy frantically trolling website after website figuring out what is already known about the Avengers recently unmasked members and what isn’t. She hits up all the reputable sites and then anywhere that Oh No They Didn’t could possibly get links from, because journalists have nothing on women with celebrity crushes.

Bruce is more or less screwed, and of course, the person she least wanted to be known is the one that gets uncovered in the most spectacular way, clear above the city in line of news choppers. There’s no trying to hide who the Hulk is anymore, not when he’s naked on every website.

“That was way more than I needed to see,” Clint says, “Please don’t blow it up on the display screen. I already bring him clothes afterwards.”

“You spoil all my fun, babe.” Darcy replies. Banner is screwed over. Media identified him, because missing genius scientist actually had been a news story once upon a time, and bam, interviews with former classmates and students have already started despite the incident happening like, three hours ago.

God bless bloggers. Bless them right in their fucking faces.

She asks Clint to help her sort out what’s going on with Natasha though. Curiously, despite the absolutely striking shots going around the internet, everyone’s having a harder time getting a real identification on her.

“I’m pretty sure they’ve only connected her as far as Natalie Rushman, employee of Stark Industries.” He says after looking through everything Darcy already has, “Can you work with that?”

“Can I work with an elaborate cover that has already been given, maintained and that Natasha knows how to work with? No, of course not, because I want to do everything from scratch. She’s been going nuts in her quiet little way, I can tell by your damn face.”  Clint nods in exasperation, and Darcy knows she’s already on a roll, and her phone rings for the seventh time this plane ride, “Uh, mom again.” She sends it to voicemail.

Clint makes a tally mark in the air, “Five calls in forty five minutes, I think this might be a record.”

“Considering it takes fifteen minutes to get somewhere where she has signal? That’s really impressive.” She sighs, her breath catching hair that’s fallen in front of her face, “I was actually looking forward to an entire weekend off.” She feels unbearably tired all of a sudden, like she didn’t spend last night stealing her uncle’s car and today having a heart to heart with her mother.

He’s hesitant to get close to Darcy whenever they are in SHIELD-owned anything, she knows, because that’s work and he likes to keep a clear head. But the line is so muddy now that he’s wrapped an arm around her, taking the tablet from her hands. She rests against him, closing her eyes.

“It’s not like we didn’t know this would happen at some point. We’re only mostly human, and we’re messy. We make mistakes, even we can’t help that.” He says lowly, and she realizes that this really is only the beginning for him, that he’s processing being in the open.

Clint grew up in the limelight, and then escaped that to live in shadow. He doesn’t really like either, but he’s known nothing else. Darcy desperately wants to give him benign existence, just so he can see what it’s like. But it’s something that will never happen. And he’s comforting her.

“I do kind of wish that we could have more control over it though,” he adds.

“Says the guy that’s going to be the only one coming out of nowhere on this one.” She rolls her eyes, “We got any intel on just what caused Banner to de-Hulk?”

“Not yet, sciences has it, but something like that is going to take time. Banner is apparently beside himself. He loves the idea of something that can pull him back front, but not that other people have it.” Clint says, “When he’s not trying to apologize for being the problem.”

“Lord, save me from men with self-esteem issues.”

                                               *

It goes like this: helicopter to jet to car, where she and Clint are separated, and she’s handed her stack of file folders, a garment bag and her makeup kit. Pepper is her absolute favorite person at this moment because the bottom of the bag has power shoes and a jewelry roll. Pepper knows how to make everything better.

To think, she’s going from her family reunion to addressing pretty much what’s going to be the entire world in just a couple of hours, because somehow she got wrangled into be the pleasant face of the Avengers. Better her than Stark. Or Thor. Thor would have the benefit of being amusing and not intentionally insulting. Just naively insulting.

And now she’s picturing Natasha giving a press conference and staring down the press until they crack and start revealing their sources. It’s infinitely rewarding.

She knows the car ride is going to be short, so she just reviews her file folder of notes and plans for just this sort of breech of security, and they ranged from Tony Stark has had a mental breakdown (again) and gone rogue to hey, at least we weren’t the ones that blew up the world. Cover stories were her bag, and so is the fallout from them.

The contingency plans for this were pretty much standard, control the rate of disclosure until they controlled what had been disclosed. Put the power back into her hands, SHIELD’s hands.

There’s cameras everywhere around Stark Tower, even in the back, once secret car entrance, and she knows she’s photographed the entire walk to the inside of the building. She even hears a news crew announcing her arrival and she doesn’t hide her face. She’s still dressed from the reunion, but fuck it. Confidence is what carries you and it doesn’t matter what you wear as long as you can project that you belong. Inhabit that space. Someone kind of important said that to her and she believes it now.

Hill meets her at the door, “Need a hand?”

Darcy hands her the garment bag. Maria would be doing this if it weren’t for the decision long ago to minimize SHIELD involvement. The less this looks like a secret government institution, the better. Agent Hill screams military-industrial complex to the very core of her being. They’ll bring in SHIELD gradually, but for now, friendly faces of the Avengers Initiative.

“Wait, do I still have my accent on?” Darcy says with a straight face, and Hill lifts one side of her mouth as she says no. “Everyone upstairs?” Darcy asks.

“We’ve got them contained.” Agent Hill answers. Contained sounds like she needs them to be babysat at all times.  And there’s the other reason that Darcy gets to be the public face instead of Maria. Maria can’t dial back the thinly veiled contempt and annoyance she has for the Avengers. She’ll defend them until her dying day (and very likely will) but there is a world of difference between respect and admiration. “I’ve got press materials made up based on your recommendations.”

“Including Natasha’s….”

“Including Natalie Rushman, good call there. It’s a lot less to try to explain an American spy, much less her colorful background.”

“It’ll buy us time, no way someone isn’t going to dig up the pieces and string them together.” Darcy retorts, “I’m not looking forward to that.” She stops in front of the doorway, “Thank you Maria, this is my stop.”

Hill gives her a curt nod, hands back the garment bag. Executive bathroom. She doesn’t waste time. Hair pulled up and back, makeup enough for pictures, but kept to the basics. Pepper found an awesome girl power suit for her, and Darcy has never been happier for their shoe relationship.

She looks herself over in one of the mirrors and pulls herself up to her full height. Tuck the pelvis, pull in the gut and then feel the space between the vertebrae elongate, expand, as she lifts her chest to take up all the room she can.

This is the space she inhabits, the line between her friends, her personal heroes and those who might be well meaning but wants to eat them up for lunch and bylines. She doesn’t have superpowers, but she has her words, her smarts and her personality and she will keep that line nice and clear.

She carries that confidence down the hall and into the hall used for press conferences. Benefit of having Stark Tower for Avengers use, the commute cannot be beat.

She opens the door and the flashes start as she walks to the podium and she opens her file folder.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, sorry to keep you waiting. I’ll be taking a limited amount of questions at the end, so please, sit on your hands. At approximately 3:15 pm Eastern time, the Initiative was notified of an attack within Midtown. The attacker was identified as a non-human occupied robot. Known details of the attack will be provided in press packets in the morning. There were no casualties, only minor injuries reported and little property damage. SHIELD has taken ownership of the robot for study and the investigation of the attack and to determine the culprit, as of this time, no one has claimed responsibility. Local and other governmental law enforcement will be utilized per standard operating procedures.” This part was pretty rote, the standard track used whenever the Avengers were utilized in a public way.

“As has been widely reported, during the course of the attack two members of the Avengers were public identified. As a result, the decision has been made to declassify the remainder. So let’s do a little headcount, why don’t we?” Darcy raises her eyebrows and smiles, letting them think she’s lowering her guard, “As we all know, Iron Man is piloted by Anthony Edward Stark, and lest he get a bigger head, the less said the better. Captain America is Captain Steve Rogers, and yes, I will confirm that he the original Captain America.” She takes a breath, because the next semi-known entity may just be the hardest one to swallow, “Thor Odinnson is indeed, an alien being that has been in contact with Earth for quite some time. Information on our diplomatic ties with his home will be outlined at a later date. As has been reported extensively today, Dr Bruce Banner is also the entity known as the Hulk. Dr Banner is a respected member of the scientific community. The details about how he became and becomes the Hulk are undergoing review, and at this time will not be released.”

And oh boy, right now, she wishes she could be split into multiple places to see the reactions of so many people, “The final two members of the Avengers are SHIELD agents Natalie Rushman and Clinton Barton, under the codenames Black Widow and Hawkeye. Agent Rushman has been serving as a liaison between SHIELD and Stark Industries. Agent Barton…” she pauses, because she’s so close to saying ‘is a circus freak’ its not even funny. A dozen other lines come to her head, ‘has a love affair with the color purple’ being a clear laugh winner, but she falters, and blandly remarks, “is from Waverly, Iowa, and learned marksmanship as a member of a traveling circus. That is a fact that cannot be made up. Both Agents have been removed from covert operations.”

“Press packets with biographical details are being handed out at this time. Requests for interviews and photography will be handled through the same channels as they have for Captain Rogers. And for the last time, it’s L-E-W-I-S, Lewis, not Lois. The explorer, not Superman’s girlfriend.”

And then the floor erupts. She already knows who she’ll answer questions from, reliable people with solid questions. Points.

“You keep a person who turns into a monster in the middle of New York City?” the reporter asks. Ohh, blunt, Darcy likes that. She hasn’t gotten all the names and faces memorized yet, but she’s from NBC or CNN, like an actual place.

“No, Dr Banner chooses to live in New York City at this time. We don’t keep him anywhere.  He does, however, have a frightful tendency to fall asleep in his lab and can be a little grumpy when someone wakes him up because they got bored. I’m pretty sure we all know who is to blame for that.” She responds, quick-mouthed. The press packets explain a little about the mechanism by which Bruce transforms, enough to say that it’s controllable, not enough so that everyone knows how to trigger a rapid green response.

“Just how close is the relationship between Stark Industries and SHIELD?” That’s the reporter from the New York Times.

“Have you been holding on to that for awhile, Peter?” Darcy questions back, and the room titters a little bit, “It’s not really a relationship between SHIELD and Stark Industries, as it is a relationship between the Avengers and Stark Industries. As you can tell by the fact that we do our press conferences in their hall, the two function rather well together. SHIELD administration that is related to the Avengers have been given space within Stark Tower to work, and the biggest open secret is true, there are living spaces for the team and selected others within the tower.”

“Then, I’ll stop dancing; Does Stark Industries still maintain weapons production for the Avengers?”

“No. Let’s draw a line between Stark Industries and Tony Stark. Tony maintains his suits and some of the other Avenger’s equipment, his company does not.”

“Wouldn’t that be hypocritical of his anti-weapons stance?” The reporter insists on asking.

“I’m pretty sure that Tony Stark can speak for himself, if you’d like to ask him. In fact, please ask him. As much as Tony doesn’t believe me, I am not a mind reader and cannot tell you what he thinks.” She shuts down the reports, and answers questions about Thor, gives the sanitized version of how he even got to Earth in the first place. There’s a post-it in her file from Hill that cajoles her to under no circumstances mention Jane hitting him with a car or her taser, and that really puts a damper on the story. That’s the best part.

She plays fast and loose explaining “Ms Rushman’s” role as liaison, dodging any questions about what is meant by covert operations and why any Avenger would be doing them with a simple, “They were SHIELD Agents prior to being Avengers. When you have a job, you do it.”

 The last reporter she calls on has the most exasperated expression, and really, Darcy doesn’t blame him, because instigating the media is her favorite sport ever, “Why these people? Why do these people make up the Avengers?”

Darcy lowers her head, a little breathless in thought as her mind starts running words just fractions of a second before she starts talking, “The directive of the Avengers Initiative was to bring together people with highly specific skill sets. Beyond the obvious skill set of someone like Captain America, with his strength and agility, each of them is highly intelligent and resourceful. But there are many in the world who could come close to what they do, and indeed, we have been seeing them come out into the world and not in pleasant ways.”

“So why these people? Because each of them possess a moral center that seeks to protect, to stand for the people, to create and conserve where others destroy. They all come to it differently and from different backgrounds, some early in life, others much later. When you have skill, drive and a reason? It takes an awful lot to stand in your way. And that, is why they are the Avengers.” And fuck it, she’s done monologuing, she knows how to end these things, “That’s it, everyone. Go write your stories, good night.” She walks off the podium and out the door, where she lets herself collapse in on herself and feel the exhaustion she’s felt since the plane.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all about controlling the stories that people tell about you.

 

The other side of the bed is empty when Darcy wakes up to a far too loud and far too early alarm. Turning off the alarm, she can hear the  murmur that Clint gets when he’s on the phone and is trying stay quiet.

“Mary, you are a peach, really….yeah that would be great if you could just…I know, that is the difficult side of the family. Tell them I’ll do a gala or charity event for them. No Mary, not forever, just a few days, let me…maybe…yeah then you can. Yeah? She really is, isn’t she? Mary, Mary I’ve got to get away now. I will, of course I will….yeah, it was real good to meet you as well.”

She’s a little sleep-deprived still but Darcy knows that pattern of speaking intimately. It’s as familiar to her as breathing, and its sort of a relief that even Clint Barton, who can be charming and manipulative as fuck in conversation is brought to the same exasperated expression when talking to her mother. Her world has totally just gotten smaller. She doesn’t really want to get out of bed, but she does have to start on her day, even though it is all of butt-fuck o’clock in the morning, which she mentally revises to five-thirty when she actually finds a clock.

“JARVIS, what’s on my schedule today?” she says, sleep coloring her voice.

They don’t have a display module in their bedroom yet, although knowing Tony, it’s only a matter of time before he breaks in and wires one in. JARVIS responds with, “0630:  with Assistant Director Hill, Agent Sitwell, and a selection of SHIELD Lawyers, to review current classified materials.”

“Oh good, what I need. The staring is going to destroy me…” she mutters, and JARVIS, who is a very good AI, knows to pause and wait for her to finish before continuing.

“At 0900, you are requested to be present at the Avenger photoshoot.”

“Really? That quick?” Clint walks into the bedroom, stopping just before the bed.

“We need material out as quick as possible, so that we can keep an eye on what’s out there that isn’t us. Control the news cycle, that sort of shit. I’ll look at the rest of the schedule later, JARVIS, check my email.”

“You have two hundred emails, most of which are the forwarded email requests, shall I break them down for you, Ms Lewis?”

“If you had bodily form, I would kiss you. Yes, please, by who the request is for, including groups. Then subcategorize them by medium and send them to my tablet.”

Clint screws up his face, “I am not doing two hundred interviews. I don’t think I have that many words in me.”

“That is a lie,” Darcy says as she starts moving, very slowly, out of the bed, “You don’t have that many publicly appropriate words in you.”

“What story do I tell first? The day that I convinced Steve that Doctor Who was a docu-drama, like the more modern Captain America movies, or when Stark outfitted the suites with hot and cold running coffee?”

“What does it say about us, that I miss the ease of having coffee piped right to my faucet? Even though it tasted like crap?” Darcy straightens out the sheets, a habit since childhood and points at the bed to get Clint to help with his side of the bed.

“Because any of the three thousand or so coffee makers in the building weren’t enough?” He snarks back lightheartedly. And Darcy has to laugh at the sheer inane domesticness of it all. She’s getting ready to coordinate a media blitz of superheroes and she’s making the damn bed.

“Coffee story is better. I don’t think making fun of Captain America is going to make you likeable to anyone except me. And I already like you, jackass. You talked to my mom?”

“Yeah, convinced her to not tell the world who her little girl is dating. She’s going to talk to everyone else for us, too. Wanna start the day out by messing up the sheets already?” Clint grins and Darcy looks at the clock, weighing just how long she had to get ready.

“Yeah sure,” she jumps back on the bed, taking off her tank top, “But I’m not doing any work.”

“I can live with that,” Clint laughs as he sits on the bed and starts peeling off clothing.

                                                        *

It’s probably the downright friendliest meeting she and Maria have ever had together. Behaving for the lawyers, she guesses, mustn’t argue in front of the children. Darcy is barely put together for this meeting, having thrown on the equivalent of SHIELD corporate wear, polo and all in her rush to get ready. It’s not flattering, but she’ll change before the photoshoot.

But Hill is obviously as tired as she is, and if Darcy had to lay bets, she didn’t get morning sex to wake her scrawny butt up. But tired Hill is actually a pleasant Hill, because being that contrary must take effort. They sit next to each other at a round conference table, shooting scenarios at the lawyers, who begin to look frightened at each iteration of “And what if Tony says this?”

Honestly, Darcy isn’t worried too much about Tony, because he’s close to old hat right now. Everyone and their mother in journalism has had interviews with him, and now there are new people to talk to. Steve still has more interviews, because really, everyone wants to talk to Steve. And he’s good at it, too. There’s a vast difference between being good at something, and liking it, and Darcy is always so careful to schedule him where he stands a chance of saying something worthwhile rather than playing a part.

Darcy’s the one that makes the suggestion, “We let Bruce tell his damn story if he wants to.” And that’s the one that that makes the lawyers blanch and Hill look at her with, well what’s this, nothing more than an explain yourself expression. “Look, we can give him bullet points of what’s still very classified and trust that he won’t go over them. But Bruce is already the type to not say very much, and maybe talking will do him some good. Open him up. People don’t know what to make of Hulk, other than an insurance nightmare, but Bruce is personable and thoughtful. Let him set the parameters of what he will talk about.”

Maria turns her head in thought, drums her long, gun-calloused fingers against the table. One of the lawyers starts to balk, but Hill cuts him off, “No, we trust Dr Banner. No specifics on the serum, obviously, and no names of people from prior incidents, but I don’t think he will want to dwell on that much.” When the lawyers start raising their voices, Hill starts getting all Chicago politics on their collective ass, and it’s a beautiful, heart-stopping thing.

Honestly, it’s sometimes hard to dislike Maria, because here is a woman that gets things done. “Outside of Banner, we control the narrative. Natalie is an invention and another cover, “ Hill says, “and we can trust her as much as we’ve always trusted her.”

And Darcy knows who is next, “Clint will work within whatever narrative I give him.”

“Which story? You set it up last night with that line of yours, that they have “ Hill closes her eyes and recites from memory, “a ‘moral center that seeks to protect, to stand for the people, to create and conserve where others destroy’. It’s the soundbite of the event.”

“But Barton doesn’t fit any of those neatly.” Darcy knows this. Her man just doesn’t — too independent by half, but not quite working solely out of duty. He’s no creator.

“Do we let him construct his own narrative?” Hill asks, and that’s tough, because the part of her that wants to defend her boyfriend and say of course is very strong.

And then practical Darcy is going, “Are you kidding?”  As both lawyers say exactly the same thing, only not as lovingly, not with as much humor, not enough knowing. And it makes her angry, the way they don’t see the joy that Clint has in being part of the Avengers, even though he wants to run off sometimes, uncomfortable in a position where it’s not just him and maybe a handler calling the shots.

Hill is running the same internal calculus, and maybe she doesn’t have all the same variables, but she can guess at them, “We will need to work on that. He should have input though, since there’s so little about him that isn’t…”

“Oh so very classified?” And it suddenly occurs to Darcy that pretty much Clint’s entire work history falls in that category, things he can allude to, but not much more than that, which means his story may have to be a personal one. Hill has a sharks grin, sly and expressive.

The lawyers excuse themselves, not being of any use anymore. The women work out more details, and Darcy adds more to her job description. She’s the only out handler, and while sure, some of the other mid-level ones will be known as the Avengers are publicly seen, Darcy has to handle most of this herself.

At least she doesn’t have as many covers to maintain and she’s not in a training cycle. Political Science, public relations, it’s all the same, how to screw people over and make them believe what you have to say. They make lists and set up media guidelines, they trash-talk Stark, and Darcy swears there’s actual respect in the other woman’s voice as they do.

“You aren’t bad at this.” Hill says packing up her things, “You sure you don’t want to go agent?”

“And leave all of this,” Darcy says, pointing to the mess of papers and electronics on the table, “No, we all have our strengths, Agent Hill. You can carry a gun, and I’ll pull the research and the files together. Our weapons are different but we wield them all the same.”

Her gaze on Darcy is inscrutable, as if she doesn’t expect Darcy to be deep, merely competent, before she leaves Darcy at the table among her collection of papers.

                                               *

“So for those of you new to how this works, you look at that camera and you smile,” Tony says cheerfully, “I’ve seen you all smile before; I know you can do it.”

“Tony…” Natasha starts.

“And Natalie,” her public names rolls off his tongue like a dirty secret, “I really know you can charm the pants off the camera. I have proof. The pants could come right off.”

“They didn’t,” Clint says stone-faced, “I was there and helped take the photos. Pants were on the entire time, regrettably.”

“I am very disappointed in you,” Tony and Darcy chorus. Thank god these are just the internal pictures they are taking right now, and that the press photographers won’t be let in for another few minutes.

She takes in a couple of stares, “What? It’s not like I even knew him then. His pants would have every right to come off. I am an enlightened woman.”

“My sweetheart.” Clint continues to deadpan, but kisses her on the cheek.

She apologies for making them kit up last night, and in return, she gives them an option: uniforms or suit up, majority vote. It ends up being uniforms all around, except for Tony, who views wearing a suit is like wearing his uniform.

“Besides, not having the faceplate on ruins the lines of the armor. It’s all or nothing baby, all or nothing.” He blinks, “Also, it’ll balance out since it’s not like the jolly green giant is going to come out to have his picture taken.”

He’s got a point, Darcy doesn’t comment. She pulls Barton aside, “So here’s your chance for input.”

“Input on what?”

“You are not that stupid, so don’t try the games,” Darcy mutters just loud enough for him to hear, “Cap and Stark are old pros, we’ve got Natasha set up, and we’re going to trust Bruce. You are our outlier. You don’t have an easy story.”

“Can’t just paint me as a ne’er do well kid done good?” He smiles, sly and comical, “It has the benefit of even being true.”

“It’s all that in-between that’s the problem. I can frame you that way, the kid that ran away to join the circus, but I’m going to need you to decide how far down the rabbit hole you are willing to go.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, “You know inside and out about what’s classified and what’s not. Not worried about that. But it would be very easy to paint you in an unflattering light.”

She can read the words going through his head; killer, murderer, assassin, con man. She’s seen them in late nights, interrupted sleep and dark circles. You can’t escape the truth of yourself and what your skills are used for, and while most of his life it’s been in the service of SHIELD, that doesn’t always make it better.

“Spy work is only romantic on TV.” He murmurs, “I don’t think I’ll be talking that up much.”

And now the hard part, and she has to close her eyes against her words because she doesn’t want to see what it does to him, “The press is already drawing connections…they know about Barney.” His shoulder tightens but she presses on, opening her eyes now, “All they’ve got is his name and rogue FBI agent, but it’s going to be enough that you’ll be asked about him.”

“That was quick.”

“Doesn’t take much to connect last names, aren’t you some sort of security expert? You should know that.”

The SHIELD photographer barrages them with lights and flashes and Tony being a jackass, “You two are the picture of adorableness. Get over here Barton, and lets get this over with.”

Darcy rolls her eyes, “So just think about it. You can deflect the questions, but it won’t be for long.” She grins towards the photographer and the rest of the group, “Hey, let me see that one. Did you get my good side? Press photographers will be here in fifteen minutes. Just photos, no questions. If you answer questions, I will be forced to hurt you in deep and personal ways.”                                                                         *

They schedule interviews in pairs to start, and Darcy figures people are a little tired of the Cap and Tony show so she throws Bruce with Tony and Thor with Steve. Because watching the interviewers scramble for their science department amuses her and so does Steve and Thor pretending they have no frame of reference for modern America. Their being that dense is a total and utter lie, they’ve been here for over three years now; Thor knows that it is Facebook and not a “Book of Faces” and that Goldfish crackers aren’t made of real goldfish. And Steve just likes playing along and playing of the poor naive man out of time card. The press eats up his wide eye enthusiasm, somehow forgetting that he’s not been that innocent since pretty much ever.

Thor gets asked questions about how he likes Earth, and Thor is cheeky when he corrects them and calls it Midgard, and then goes on to express his delight in the small things, and speaks passionately about Jane, and will forget that her work is still classified and Darcy has to signal him to stop more than once.

“I am sorry, my dear Ms Lewis is telling me that I am not supposed to speak of these things. Darcy is a great friend of my love Jane and so I will trust her judgment in these matters.”

                                                        *

Clint and Natasha have a different problem; they keep score.

“I get asked the most inappropriate questions,” Natasha balks, “Clint, answers questions about weaponry, and I get questions about if my uniform chafes and what I wear underneath it.”

So naturally, they start answering each other questions.

“You use an interesting weapon there, would you tell us about it?”

“Oh of course,” Natalie barges over the conversation, “I generally use a couple of Glock 26 subcompact pistols. They are nice and light, and since I generally work on mobility and not brute force like some of the others, it gives me an edge.”

“Oh, you know, the usual. I’m a boxer brief kind of guy. Plenty of coverage.” Clint answers when Natasha is asked about her underwear again.

It’s unexpected then, when it’s a no-name rag of a show that someone squeezes into a press pool to ask Clint and Natalie, “How did you get started with SHIELD?”

Clint squints his eyes, and ducks his head, looking sidelong at Natasha; “A very fine SHIELD agent shot me while I was trying to sneak into one of their facilities from the wrong side. He caught me and when I woke up, he offered me a job and a way to clean myself up.”

Natasha shrugs her shoulders, “Clint shot me. Offered me a chance to do the right things in life when I woke up.”

“I promise you, shooting people is not the only way that SHIELD recruits agents.” Clint laughs, broad and free flowing, his arm going around her shoulders. It’s the first sign of open history from either of them and the entire pool is scrambling to make sure they got that soundbite.

“It’s just a very effective one.” Natalie adds. When Darcy watches the tape later she can tell that while the affection is real, the demonstrative nature is all a performance. They’ve decided to play up the friends and partners angle to, well, she supposes, to normalize their role.

As Clint says, being a spy and an assassin is only romantic on TV. In reality, there are endorphins, adrenaline, blood and guts. But they’ll take up what they’ve gotten from their hard lives for the world to see, and that’s each other and hard earned trust.

Darcy smiles; it’s very nice when plans work out the way they should.

                                                        *

There’s not a whole lot to do when Bruce and Tony are late, again, for one of their scheduled interviews, except venture into the labs where they are breaking down the robot and drag them out. Bodily if she needs to.

The bot is broken out into pieces, stationed in various points across the lab. Bruce has a workspace set up to try to isolate what could cause him to shift back, Tony is working on the mechanism of release, and as a special surprise to Darcy, “Charlie!” she laughs, “What brings you out of Boston?”

“Tigner here could get a better education under my careful tutelage than at MIT.”

“You went to MIT, Tony.” Charlie sighs, rolling his eyes. He’s been letting his hair grow out again and Darcy itches for her scissors, “I can learn quite well from the people that taught you.” Charlie is standing in front of a display, code running down as he shifts it around.  On his right are the schematics of a processor and to his left, a table with the actual piece of tech. “And while a doctorate from the University of Tony Stark’s Ego would be impressive to you, it’s not in my plans.”

“Hey Bruce, remind me, University of Tony Stark at Manhattan. It has a ring to it don’t you think?”

“I really don’t want you to drag me into this.” Bruce insists, “What’s going on Darcy?”

“Upstairs, the both of you. Scientific American’s doing a ten questions bit. Won’t take you long, but you are late. Again.” Darcy lectures lightly, “So upstairs or I’m calling Pepper, and you know how much she hates being pulled out of meeting to baby-sit you Tony.”

“At least we get to pretend the people that read this one actually understand what we do.” Tony puts down whatever it is he’s working on, “Scientific American, really?”

“Could be worse.” Bruce responds.

“Yeah, could be Popular Science.” The two bicker as they leave the lab, leaving Darcy with Charlie.

“So what are you working on?” Darcy asks, peering at backside of the display. She can hack a bit, but this is a little bit, okay, a lot of a bit, above her skill level.

“I am peering into the mysteries of programming to reverse engineer this piece of crap.” He stabs at the display a few times, “Join SHIELD you said. Get funding for school you said. Work with Tony Stark you said. Tony Stark is a rampaging jackass.”

“I may have neglected to tell you that part.” Darcy allows.

“Yeah well, it’s every time I’m making headway on my own work, I get a call from Stark asking for a young brain. I’m getting a little terrified that someday, he’s just going to take my brain.” Charlie ends up staring at Darcy, “I get that it’s an honor to work with the guy, but I’m seriously regretting the fact that I had a poster of him up in my room in high school.”

“Oh precious baby, you didn’t tell him that did you?” Darcy says, laying her hands on his shoulders. Charlie hangs his head in shame. “Oh Charlie, you only have yourself to blame.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone that wanted to see more of Charlie from Say it Aloud(break the night into the day), here you go. He's too much fun not to bring out when needed.
> 
> Since I don't usually do WIPs, you can keep up with me at my tumblr: [ twistedingenue](http://twistedingenue.tumblr.com/) I tend write up status reports on current fic progress.


	3. Chapter 3

 

“Oh I feel disgusting,” Darcy says, pulling her fingers through her hair and removing flecks of dried green gunk out of the mess, “And I am disgusting. Great.”

“I was really hoping that that test would have worked.” Charlie says almost apologizing, locking the SHIELD sedan behind him.

“And I was really hoping that too. And I wish it worked even more now because you blew that vat with the laser intentionally.”

Okay, this time, the apology is real, but he also adds, “It still isn’t my fault that that Tony switched your positions at the last moment. And I really needed to get him back for reprogramming my displays to only play Donald Duck in Mathmagic Land.”

“There are times that I really miss being in algebra one and having a substitute.” Darcy reminisces, flipping her hair in his face.

“Yeah, I miss fourth grade too.”

Darcy sometimes really hates being surrounded by geniuses. That was sophomore year of high school. Way too many geniuses around here to mock her kindly, and after spending the day with Tony and Charlie (she really drew the short straw for this assignment) upstate, she really would like to knock them all down a peg. But they couldn’t do their tests on their stray sciencey thought in the tower, so day trip.

Said stray was a laser that didn’t focus tight enough and upturned some other lab rat’s experiment straight over Darcy, green Carrie style. R&D swore that it’s just a polymer test, nothing that will…uh, change her job role. They found her clothes to wear home, and would have been home sooner, but Tony had to fly off and avenge some pesky threat nearby the facility. But she still feels just gross and doesn’t really want anyone to see her, much less the rest of the handler team.

The handler team really loves to poke fun. They’ve been hanging around the Avengers for far too long. They used to be straight laced, and now, now, they only get that way when they are working.

“Darcy, has SHIELD gone completely off the rocker on ethics and started recruiting from high schools? Because I’d be real interested in knowing who you send out to do that.” Charlie asks.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Charlie points up to one of the corners of the garage that oversees the entryway from garage to tower. There’s a young woman, that’s very possibly of a legal age, balancing and watching on the shallow ledge. Darcy takes a photo quickly with her phone, and runs it through the known threat database (best SHIELD app ever) and while the black-haired girl doesn’t register, that really doesn’t mean anything in their line of work.

“And here we approach the proto-spy in her native habitat, outside of a secure facility,” Charlie mutters under his breath and laying on his best documentary voice, “And ain’t she a beautiful specimen. Why, it’s hard to believe in just a few years, she’ll be kicking ass and taking names alongside her elders.”

“Did you just switch from stuffy English to Australian nature guide?” Darcy says quietly, sending the picture to a select group of people with a message of ‘I found her outside the door. I am not keeping her.’ Charlie’s laugh is a little too loud and catches the girl’s attention; she looks sharply at the pair of them. She’s almost ashamed at being caught, but that passes quickly and she starts darting her head looking for the best way out.

“You did that wrong,” Darcy is a very helpful person, “You need to know where your exits are before you get into position. You should also note, that we can easily have about five lines of sight on you at this very moment.”

“I can actually figure most of those out,” Mystery Girl says, shifting her weight on the ledge, “But you don’t have anyone out here, because it’s already secure.”

“Yeah, actually, how did you manage to bypass that?” Darcy asks, shocking herself with you know, directness.

“Weak point. Trunk releases are standard in cars these days.” Girl is trying to hard in all black, but Darcy gives her bonus points for realistic shoes, “Look, that’s for the tip and all, but I really have to get going.” Suddenly, she shifts her weight and jumps to another ledge that has a small opening for ventilation and pulls herself up and through it.

And then mystery girl is gone and damn it, that really just means that Darcy has more paperwork to do.

                                                        *

She doesn’t really get a chance to fill out that paperwork, passes the buck to someone else, because she gets to her desk and there’s a million messages waiting for her response, because somebody let Tony out in public to talk today. That just shouldn’t be allowed.

“You know,” she says to her empty walls, “I really miss when all I did was make up wacky stories about fictional people.”

Because now she _fixes_ wacky stories about real people and that’s just not nearly as much fun. Fiction has to make sense, reality has no such bias. But hey, she’s got a template marked Stark’s Mostly Inappropriate Vocabulary, and it gets probably more work than she does. Pepper took one look at it and stole it from her to adapt.

Darcy really likes being good at her job, and the PR work she’s doing now isn’t bad, but it’s more insistent than clean-up detail, and somehow she’s a junior handler managing the rest of the juniors, and she hasn’t taken her turn being a voice in the Avenger’s ear in awhile, which means that has to happen soon, or she has to retrain.

She went to school for political science, because she wanted to make a small difference, because she grew up knowing that the little choices you have to make end up making more of an impact than the big ones over the long run. If she could help with easing some of the little choices, a break here and there, well, she might not get famous, but it could be a life to be proud of. Instead, here she is working with superheroes and nothing but the bombastic.

It’s still a life to be proud of, but it’s not the one she wanted.

So now it’s press statements, letters of apology to the woman that Stark called “a raving and mild intellect that should never have been let upon this world” in an interview, and minor corrections and adjustments to the cover files.

This week has been the best of her life; she’s never felt more useful, more in charge and capable, while at the same times it’s been her worst. She’s seen her bed only in passing, Clint pretty much only when escorting and watching interviews, and she’s actually pretty happy to be inside of her office rather than at some random TV studio, but even feeling capable, it’s just doesn’t seem enough to be reacting to shit Tony Stark says, or following the epic tales and stories Thor will tell on live television, or the fact that suddenly, someone’s created a Twitter devoted to reproducing quotes from Steve, but replacing a carefully chosen work with “pants”.

She doesn’t get that one; Darcy would have chosen something a lot less subtle.

                                                        *

In retrospect, it was probably sleep deprivation that led her to accept a morning show for a small group interview. It was probably the lack of regular food that leads her to ok the small group as Tony, Clint and Natalie.

And in retrospect, she probably should have just dropped them off and then gone and stuck her head under her pillow.

The interviewer (and damn it, Darcy can’t remember her name, because all the interviewers have merged into one prodding personally invasive creature) has been trying to break Tony in an impressive amount of double entendre one-upmanship that’s got both of them on the edges of their chairs, and barely containing their laughter. Clint and Nat sure aren’t, but Clint is covering his face, and Nat’s public persona allows her to not just to laugh outside of her normal dry wit — but practically dive her face into Clint’s shoulder.

There are rumors of course; the Initiative is made up of people who are too pretty for their own good, and they all are very comfortable with each other and it shows in all of their public appearances. Every combination, every which way, but nothing that shows up in actual legitimate news sources. But a morning show? Well that just straddles the line between rag and actual news source.

“Aren’t you two a pretty picture?” The woman asks, and Tony’s eyes go wide just waiting with glee for what must be coming next, “You two have worked together for a long time?”

“Oh my…” Tony says just underneath Nat’s, “As long as I’ve worked for SHIELD.” Which is a wonderful way to sidestep the specific timeline of when she started working for SHIELD. “God, you are going to ask this, you really are going to ask?”

“Is there any truth to the rumors?”

“You really are.”

“Which rumors?” Natalie asks back, trying to deflect, but instead of looking at Clint, the camera or the TV personality, she’s staring full tilt at Darcy. Darcy is just trying to sneak food off the caterer table, because she missed breakfast, and possibly dinner as well. And well, pineapple and doughnuts. What’s there not to be excited about with that combination?

“You two are so close to each other, you obviously have some history.” Hair with a microphone says, not flustered at all and just keeps going, “So tell me Natalie, do the two of you have a thing going on.”

“Oh yes Natalie, do you two have a thing?” Tony repeats enunciating each word as Clint hides his feelings in a pinched, fake smile. This would be a lot funnier if it weren’t happening in slow motion.

“I don’t think Barton’s girlfriend would appreciate that very much. She’s sort of possessive about him.”

“Nat!” Clint objects and warns in the space of a single syllable, short and quick.

“You weren’t going to say anything, were you? Take some courage from her, Clint.” Natasha snipes back with a smile.

“Well then, who is the lucky woman?” the woman is now downgraded in Darcy’s memory to Botox and lipstick.

Clint opens his mouth to say something, and Darcy is sure he’ll never tell her exactly what before it’s Tony that just barrels through, “Oh, he’s been with one of the handlers for a few years now. Darcy.”

And that’s how Darcy ends up on national morning television with powdered sugar still on her fingertips, wearing her favorite pair of ripped jeans, a tank top and one of the many plaid shirts that float from person to person in the Tower.  Thank goodness she actually brushed her hair and put on makeup before heading out as escort. At least she won’t look too washed out over high-def.

“Sorry babe,” Clint says, aware that they’ve just let out another major relationship within the Avengers out of the bag. He offers a weak smile as a counterpoint to Darcy’s playful scowl.

“I’m not.” The other two say in unison. Darcy tries to discreetly rub the powered sugar off on Tony’s suit in retaliation, and smearing it around so it will be obvious to the views at home.

“How long have you been together?” The interviewer asks.

Natalie answers for them, “They’ve been together two years.”

Tony adds, “It’s really quite something, the whole thing. It’s disgusting. They run around the house laying traps and snarking at each other.”

“They are just going to talk around us, aren’t they?” Clint says.

“Maybe if we are very quiet, we can sneak off.” Darcy mock-whispers.

“Darcy might be familiar to our viewers, as she’s very familiar to those of us in the media. You are one of the handlers for the Avengers, right?”

And because Darcy isn’t stupid and knew that something like this would happen soon enough, knows exactly what to say, “Oh yes. I’m a junior handler specializing in PR and Communications.” She’s not going to mention that she writes the cover stories, because it’s a polite fiction that they don’t need those.

“She’s being modest. Darcy, don’t be modest. She’s the lead junior handler, because she’s the only one that —”

“Can keep all of you in line. Particularly you Tony.”

“Me?” Tony has this thing in interviews where he pretends to be offended, and everyone knows its fake, but he sells it so well, “I am always a gentleman.”

The interviewer gets the signal that she needs to wrap up the interview and thanks them all for coming today, and blah blah blah, and Darcy just smiles her way through it until botoxy asks her if she has anything she’d like to add, “If I didn’t say hello to my mother, I’d never hear the end of it. Hi mom! I’m fine, you really don’t need to call.”

Dary’s mother, of course, never listens to her.

                                                                 *

_Darcy_

_Did you really have to out-do us all when it comes to boyfriends? Some of us don’t have the opportunity to meet people like Clint out here. It’s not like superheroes just fall out of the sky in the middle of nowhere._   _Cammie_

                                                                 *

There’s a series of small missions that don’t require the attention of all the team at once, and Darcy has to spend time being the voice of god when there are two or three at once up and down the coast, and she does a very good job of not flirting over the comms. Clint fails at it, but what else is new?

It’s probably her fault for starting it, she did ask him what his position was.

She tries to maintain some silence after the whole TV interview thing, and she responds just to the short questions people ask, biographical details and such. She turns down anything television, and really just most of the press in general, but accepts a longform interview with Culver’s alumni magazine and her hometown newspaper. Others write stories about her, but she didn’t have to speak with them and her mother starts to talk about scrapbooking each of the articles.

For the most part through, it’s business as usual; she takes her laptop down to the labs and work while tending to scientists. Charlie, at least, is usually happy to see her. Charlie and Bruce get along well, they both prefer to work in quiet, get enveloped in their work. It courses through them, they don’t need a soundtrack to work with.

The three of them have decided to come at the problem using their strengths, Bruce conferring with biochemists, Charlie works on how the AI of the robot actually worked, and Tony tears it apart and rebuilds it.  She likes listening to their patter as they work. After working for Jane, she listens not for the actual content of their speech but the rise and fall, the playing scientific terms. About the same amount sinks in. Education via osmosis, worked in Spanish 2 during high school, probably works about the same now.

Tony doesn’t like giving up the AI work, only grudgingly admits that Tigner is on the same level as he is on it, and he constantly tries to tinker in Tigner’s files.

“Out of my space, Stark,” Charlie actually pushes the older man out his display space. SHIELD might actually suit Charlie, because he’s become more comfortable in his skin and now actually tries to order Tony around. It’s a fruitless endeavor, but he’s welcome to try.

“Hey, you come here and play with my things, you have to let the master —”

“— You invited me Tony.” Tigner snaps back.

“Your mentor, your…” Tony trails off as he needles his way back into the display, tries to move something around for a better look at the code.

“You are my pain in the ass right now,” Charlie hip checks Stark out of the way again, “Let me work.”

Bruce works quietly, even methodically by comparison. But while the engineering lads have made great progress on the delivery mechanism (the laser worked, after all, just not in the way they had expected it to work) the biochemical that hit him is elusive.

“Also, the team that’s been assigned to me are actively scared to close to me. We have virtual meetings. The team is just across the hall.”

“Big guy, maybe it’s not you they are scared about,” Darcy juts her head over towards the boys squabbling in the background, “They are so rambunctious at their age.”

“What age is that?” Bruce asks, staring as Stark and Charlie laugh as they hit different points of the display to make them explode around them.

“I’m beginning to think all of them,” Darcy peers at Bruce’s work, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, or that I work and live a life where this isn’t out of place, but what if it’s magic?”

“Why go to such great lengths to construct an AI and a robot, if they can just magic the other guy away?” Bruce questions.

Darcy circles her hands,” It’s not like it would be the first time I’ve seen magic and tech work together.” Hello New Mexico, where all of this began and the Destroyer.

“So why haven’t we seen more of them then?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s just hard?” Darcy shrugs, “I’m just throwing stuff out here. I know that with the Destroyer, they could get it …glowy and make it fire, but they couldn’t get it to work like it did without the magic. So maybe there’s something to that.”

Bruce looks at her like he’s figuring out a puzzle, “That’s a thought—”

Darcy’s cell goes off, “Well, hold it.” She checks the message, “Tony, we’re requested up at the range.”

                                                                 *

She’s told on the way that there are two agents in the ceiling above the range, waiting to drop if the intruder makes any indication that she’s going to leave any time soon. Darcy is shown a security feed, and Tony is backtracking the security breach.

“Ms Lewis, is this the girl you reported yesterday?” Sitwell asks with a bland face.

Darcy looks from the security feed to the one-way observation booth that overhangs the range. It’s the same black haired kid she saw earlier, but now drawing and firing arrow after arrow with more than decent aim and accuracy. She has the same fierce grace and surety of movement that she’s always impressed by in Clint, the sort that is impressive because it looks almost unhuman, when really it’s the most human thing of all: skill and training.

“She looks familiar to me.” Tony says, “Couldn’t say from where, Pep will know.” He fiddles with his phone to send a picture.

“Yeah, that’s her.” Darcy crosses her arms under her chest, “Color me impressed. She’s got talent, think she’s working for anyone?”

“According to the security footage, she got in and wandered until she found the armory next door. Didn’t even look at the guns, just the bow. She’s been at this for a solid twenty.” Sitwell assesses, “If she’s with someone, she’s doing it strangely.”

Tony’s phone buzzes, “Pep says she’s seen her around at society functions. Kid of someone or another. No name.”

She’s not harming anything, so they are content to watch her fire until she runs out of accessible arrows and she puts down the bow to go collect them from the targets. She stepping to the side when the ceiling tile moves and Clint drops in front of her, and there is just a hint of a  peek of red hair watching and waiting, probably with at least one weapon drawn.

She tries, and not totally in vain — she has a few moves, to fight him off, but he’s got her subdued and on the ground in just a minute.

“Afternoon, miss. Engaging in a little treachery of the breaking and entering sort?” He says with a smile, “I don’t usually rent out my portion of the space here.”

“Oh fuck.” The girl groans simply and has the good sense to shut up.

Clint gives a signal, and Darcy and Tony walk through to the range, Natasha sits still above them, patient as always.  The guys haul her back up to her feet, holding her in place.

“What I don’t understand,” Tony says, “Is how you got inside the first place?”

“You know how at an atm you are supposed to hold your hand over the keypad while you type in your pin?” she says, arching her back so that it cracks audibly, “You aren’t so good at that.”

“Blast it, outdone by humans yet again, Mr Stark.” Clint quips.

“It’s so very hard to contain the human factor. Are you sure I can’t replace all of you with robots?”

When Sitwell finally walks through, it’s with a soft, knowing smile, and an expression that can only be seen as gloating.

“I can’t keep calling you kid in my head,” he says, “So you are going to have to tell us who you are and who you work for. It’s probably better if you tell us now, rather than letting an entire squad of people trained in legal and …extra-legal forms of interrogation at you.” He cocks his head, “It would not be pleasant.”

Her chin rises, “It’s Kate Bishop, and do you really think I need to work for anybody?”

Tony groans, placing the girl from countless functions and parties, “Socialite infiltrators, just what I needed. Are you even legal to look at?”

“As of three months ago.”

Darcy does not like the look on Sitwell’s face. Sitwell likes strays way too much. He thinks it’s funny to bring them in and place them with people he wants to annoy or just unsettle. It’s a great lark when the latest acquisition is not staring you down.

“Ms Bishop, let’s go have a talk, just you and me.” Sitwell and Clint have an argument with their eyebrows and a scowl but eventually, Sitwell escorts the woman out under her own power, Tony following behind, texting Pepper with the gossip.

Natasha slips down while Clint looks at the targets that Kate was shooting at with a resigned expression, something a little lost in his eyes.

Natasha says, “I think we’re going to have a new kid sister, Barton.”

“She’s good, “ He says, oddly detached, “Well trained, well-stanced, a little stiff.”

“Well,” Darcy adds weakly, “It’s not like anything normal happens around here. What are the kids in high school wearing these days, I’ll go scare us up some new recruits.”

                                                        *

_Darcy,  I decided to turn down the Omnitech job, I didn’t feel right about the conditions of employment.  Any advice on where an environmental engineer can get a job?_

_Mags_

                                                        *

_Darcy, Love! It’s Ronnie! I must have caught you at a bad time if this went to voicemail but you must simply come to this party we are throwing next weekend. We’d love to have you and your boyfriend there! Give me a call back._

                                                        *

“You going to call her back?” Clint asks.

Darcy just raises an eyebrow and deletes the voicemail from her phone, “Oops, my phone just keep dropping messages like mad. I simply must have Tony work on that.”

                                                        *

**Transcript for consideration**

Esquire: So what is the Hulk?    
Dr B. Banner: A horrible lab accident?  
Esquire: No I’m sorry, let me try that again, what makes up the Hulk?  
Dr. B. Banner: You mean on a more? Okay, yeah. Umm, think of all the dark parts that make you up. Every thought made in rage, every emotion you never wanted, all your worst fears, all the memories that make you shake at night. Concentrate it, make worse. And then it comes out, and it’s terrifying, the things you can do when you have that mixing around. But you accept it, and I think anyone can accept the dark things in themselves and be a better person for it.

                                                        *

**Charlie** : _darce, when was the last time you slept_

**Darcy** : _I am currently measuring out my life in coffee spoons. Today and yesterday have run into each other, and tomorrow is coming up quickly._

                                                        *

“….It’s no surprise that Clint Barton remains secretive about his past, even while being a charming conversationalist. He’s a gifted intelligence operative, a sharpshooter, and according to others a practical joker and a pain in the neck. Try to ask about anything other than general questions about performing in the circus circuit and the result is a drastically shortened interview. A question about his brother, the presumed deceased Barney Barton of the FBI, has on at least one occasion caused immediate cessation. All men have secrets, of course, and spies carry more than most…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient with me while I work on this story. I've been running the Going on Facebook Darcy Lewis Fic Exchange, and that took up most of my writing time for the past two weeks. Hopefully, this means updates will be quicker.
> 
> As always, if you want to keep up with me, get fic updates, send a prompt, what-have-you, you can find me at [ twistedingenue.tumblr.com ](http://twistedingenue.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

 

Kate holds herself just a hair too wide in her open stance, solid and rooted to the ground. She draws back to a high anchor, breathes deep and even and releases with a little too much gusto. The arrow lands just shy of the bullseye.

“Again,” Clint says, and she picks another arrow and shoots exactly the same way, “Again. This time, watch your release. Just relax your fingers and don’t try to force them to move. Too much purpose and you jerk the bow at the last moment.” It’s the easiest thing to correct at this point while they trained on one of the range bows before they find a good match for her.

And breaking her of her bad habits, well, that’s just a perk. Clint can do it better than the way he learned, won’t betray the trust that she’ll eventually place in him. Best of all, he doesn’t have to start from scratch; she’s incredibly well trained already.

But not enough for what it is clear she wants to do.

Kate mimes pulling the string back, playing with relaxing the fingers before picking up another arrow, drawing, and letting it fly. The bow doesn’t jerk and she hits below right where she aimed.

“Better,” he says, “Much better.”

“My arms hurt, can we take a break?” she half-whines. It’s becoming evident that though the kid is smart and a quick learner, she’s still fucking 18 and has the attention span of a gnat with a sugar high.

“Then change your stance, you know open makes you depend on your arms too much.” Clint snaps back, because he only gets a little bit of time with her when she’s here, and they aren’t going to waste it.

Kate rolls her eyes, but shifts her front foot to a 45-degree angle, “I hate the other stances, I run into myself way too easily, but I can’t keep this one up for very long.”

“Shoot with your back.” He offers, the same advice he was given years ago, ignoring her issue with the oblique stance. That’s everyone’s issue with it, but she’s going to have to learn how to hit her mark from any stance and out of any stance.

“Well…” she fires another arrow, her release perfect and the bow falls forward without a wobble, and she hits the center, “No shit, Hawkeye. I’ve only been told that since I was twelve.”

Katie wears yoga pants and a sports bra that would probably make the women of SHIELD break down in tears, and he can watch the interplay of muscles as she anchors, a little lower this time, releases and follows through, her hand ending behind her head as she relaxes. It’s a silly little habit she has, but it’s not a bad one.

She can have style if she wants. It doesn’t need to be beat out of her.

Her alarm is some chirpy pop song that Clint has no desire to investigate who sings it, what genre it is supposedly from or even actually listen to the lyrics.  Kate purses her lips in disgust, “Oh yeah, I’ve got homework.”

And Christ, she’s a kid, and she’s still in high school and he’s training her inside of the Tower, in the Avengers gym because of the towering resentment some of the assets leveled at her the first day, because she out-sneaked the sneaks.

“What exactly have you told your parents about what you are doing after school?” He asks. He didn’t go to high school, got his GED at 17 while on the winter circuit, in an old town library that smelled like applesauce and binding glue. He got the record, but the certificate is nowhere to be found, he never got it. They had moved on by the time it could be printed.

He’s still proud of it.

“Uh, right now? Nothing. I don’t think they’ve even noticed. I’m home in time for whatever dinner Clarissa, our maid, has left in the oven for us, and that’s all mom and the step-dad really care about.” Kate unstrings and takes the bow down with practiced ease, throws a loose t-shirt on over her sports bra.

“Yeah, that’s changing,” Darcy says from the door, “We’ve got some documents we need to finish forging,”

“Darcy, we’re SHIELD, it’s not forging when we do them.” Clint sighs, but smiles at the sight of her. It’s been a long day, and even breathing the same practically recycled air, seeing Darcy at the truly random intervals that their jobs allow them is just a moment of surety.

“Not when I make them. It’s way cooler to say I’m forging something. Anyways, Miss Bishop,”

“Kate!”

“Whatever,” That’s not Darcy dismissing her, but it’s being filed away, when Darcy isn’t in work-mode, she’ll drop the honorifics, “Things should be in order. You’ve applied for and received a SHIELD internship. Did you know that your prep school let’s you get out of your last period class when you show paperwork that you are in a work release program? We were only too happy to get that all straightened out. Ostensibly, you are here learning governmental administration—”

“Daddy will be so proud.” Kate deadpans as she toes on a pair of flats, and stashes her sneakers in her backpack. A backpack, seriously. He’s training a girl that is still using a backpack to carry around her schoolbooks.

“But we all know that you are secretly because, well, because otherwise, you are going to sneak into something that you can’t get out of.”

Kate looks at Darcy with a hard stare, Darcy raising her eyebrows in a challenge. Kate looks down with a scoff, “Check your eyeliner, Ms Lewis, it’s totally running.”

“I’m not wearing liner right now.” Darcy’s voice rises to a dangerous pitch and he puts a hand to the small of her back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kate draws back, smaller but not willing to stop. Clint’s not sure if they are teasing each other or if they are trying to start a fight. “You alright? Getting enough sleep? Those dark circles are a fierce look.”

Darcy snaps her mouth shut, but now Clint can actually see the way she looks, without his blinders, and she just looks beat. Like he does when he’s been up for 72 hours on a single catnap. Kate’s right, the circles and bags under her eyes are worrisome and he wonders how long they’ve been there.

“Kate, go home,” he says to try to diffuse whatever is about to happen.

“Yeah, see you later Obi-wan.” Kate leaves without any more fanfare.

Clint puts both hands on Darcy’s hips, and she might look a mess but her hair is soft and smells lovely when he drops a kiss on the top of her head. She relaxes into his arms after a few moments and turns her head for, as she so often puts it, a real kiss. He can see her softness returning as he does, but she breaks it off and tries to pull away. There is to be none of that, right now, girlfriend has got to slow down.

Clint wonders if he’s missed anything else besides her tired look, and yeah, Kate was right, the bags under her eyes. She’s been to bed after him and up before him, and the sleeping hasn’t been that good in between. Not for either of them, but at least his nightmares and crap are common. Her restless nights aren’t. Darcy is usually pretty gifted at sleeping through anything.

“Clint…” she says quietly.

“We could go upstairs, have a mid to late afternoon delight.” He murmurs into her neck, one sliding against her waist, holding her against him, his chest to her back and the other hand tracing her face.

“Your ability to reference Starland Vocal Band is a wonder and a turn on, babe.” She suddenly slacks and breathes out with a huff, “But I’ve got covers to update, three press releases to finish, I have to respond, get this, respond to inquires about Thor’s whereabouts because no one has seen him get his afternoon latte in a few days.”

“Didn’t he and Jane…?” he starts

“Jane got fed up with the media and decided now was a perfect time to go on vacation. Turns out, her idea of a vacation is to visit another observatory, but at least it is in Hawaii so more power to her.” She kisses him on the cheek, up on her tiptoes even though she doesn’t have to, but it’s cute and he likes it.

“Don’t you have minions to do that work?” He asks, and he’s going to lose this line of thinking, but he’s got to give it a shot.

“Villains have minions, Clint. I have lackeys, and let me tell you, they are living up their names. They lack. They put in ten hours and think that’s enough, no I have to pick up their slack.”

“You need to sleep.” He points out and he lets the worry color his voice, it’s the last weapon he’s got outside of frog marching her upstairs and that will end badly for all parties involved.

“I’ll try to write quickly then. No, Clint, really, I know I’ve not…but I’m fine, you know that working here is stressful. We just have different stressors. I’ve been worse.” Darcy squirms her way out of his arms, but not out of his hands or his reach.

“I’ve never seen you worse.”

And it’s as simple as that, because his heart lurches at Darcy’s half-smile when she says, “Well yeah, you wouldn’t see me worse.” Because that’s the point. He’s never seen her like this because the rest of the time, it’s been her worried about him. She lets go of his hands and walks out of the range, leaving him alone with nothing but the targets.

                                                        *

The text comes from Natasha, just a simple _Come to the gym, something you have to see._ But when Darcy gets there, it’s Natasha, Steve and Tony milling about while Clint and Kate set up raised boxes at opposite ends of the gym.

“Ever watch an archer duel?” Natasha asks when she joins them. Darcy shakes her head, “You are in for a treat. It’s been a long time since Clint’s had someone approach his skill.”

Clint and Kate are squaring the boxes, making sure they line up with each other over the distance. He’s in his uniform and she’s wearing standard issue SHIELD Kevlar over her workout clothes.

“The arrows are blunted, but they’d still sting and bruise,” Natasha continues, “They’ll have the same equipment, the same amount in their quivers, and they can’t move off of the platforms. A hit to a limb takes out that limb, anything to body takes them out.”

“Knowing them,” Steve says, “a single shot to the body wouldn’t stop them.” He watches as the pair put together the standard recurve, no ones preferred weapon, his mouth a grim line when his eye fall on the young woman, “Well, Clint at least. He’s stubborn enough to keep going with the world falling apart around him, we don’t know about Miss Bishop yet.”

“Ten?” Kate asks, stringing the bow, bending the limbs gracefully.

“Ten. Take your pick and your spot.” Clint responds, having already strung his bow and extends his hand out over a pile of the blunt capped arrows. They each pick out ten and fill quivers at their hip.

Katie ends up at the platform nearest their small crowd. The platforms aren’t very big, just enough that they can set a foot behind them. Kate moves with the satisfied ease of an athlete, but her step up to the platform is hesitant.

“…Wants to see how she’s taken the training to heart…” Tony says just loud enough for Steve to hear easily, but Darcy is pretty well trained to hear his particular cadence and listen for whatever he is saying, “He says the girl is worth it, Cap.”

The pair of archers exchange expressions of readiness, and Clint says they will start on three. At the end of the countdown, they draw and release at seems to be at the same time, but Clint is just a little faster and Kate twists out of the way of the oncoming arrow just at the nick of time, and she fumbles for another arrow from the quiver, and can’t get it off before she jumps up to avoid a second arrow aimed at her right leg.

“It still seems, wrong. She lives with her parents, she goes to high school...” Steve murmurs.

“She broke in on her own, it’s only a matter of time before she stumbled on the radar of the wrong people or took on someone she shouldn’t and gets herself killed.”

Kate gets her bearings back, fires two arrows off in quick succession after she lands sure-footed on the platform. Clint dodges them easily as he fires.

“Whatever happened to letting kids be kids?” Steve says, and it’s not quite a rhetorical question, “What drives a childhood to this?”

“I was building weapons before I was ten.” Tony is quiet, flinches as Kate is hit in the leg and she falls to her knees, but does not stop her draw.

“Who here got knocked down ten times, only to stand up eleven?” Darcy can’t believe she’s defending the brat, but the brat is currently folded backwards, her back touching the platform, and Clint’s fourth arrow flies just past her nose. Her next shot is wide and goes nowhere near him.

“What’s a childhood made of?” Natasha muses when Kate finally lands a hit on Clint’s bow arm. He grins and Natasha grins larger when he drops to his ass, and Darcy can’t help her ringing laughter.

“But is she one of us?” Steve asks again, more insistent, “Or is she playing at it?

Clint dodges another arrow, rolling his entire body off to the left, and when he returns to center, it’s with his feet against the bow for leverage, and his good arm drawing the string back.

Kate doesn’t expect the hit to her chest, and she falls backwards off the platform. Clint saunters over as she’s getting up, telling her that she did great, but she turns instead to the little group, her breath coming out in harsh huffs, “If I can stop others from meeting the monsters, then I will always get out there and do something about it.”

Clint looks confused; Kate turns on her heel to walk back to the equipment table to take down her bow.

Tony raises his eyebrows, “Well, that answers that. Yes, she’s one of us.”

Steve eats his lips, “I guess I don’t have to like it. But that, I can respect.”

                                                        *

Darcy waits; she waits until everyone else has left the gym. Kate to head home, everyone else to wherever they go when they realize that Darcy has a serious face and it’s not directed at them. Clint avoids her eyes, because he knows what he did, “You ran out on an interview. Again.”

“In my defense…”

“No, you don’t get to talk right now. Because this is the fifth one that you’ve ended the interview early, and the second one where it was a solo interview. You just stand up and walk out. It’s giving you a reputation.”

“Does that mean they’ll stop asking me about my brother?” Clint says, turned away from her, cleaning one of the bows. His hands aren’t steady; the bow shakes in them.

“It means they are just going to keep pushing it, farther each time until you snap and say more than you want. They will prod and pry, they will be better than you at ferreting out the information that they want and that you won’t provide.”

“Darcy…baby, it’s just, I’m not sure I can start without finishing.”

“Well, that’s never been a problem for me before, I’m sure the media would love that sort of detail.”

“No, I mean…the story isn’t finished yet.” He puts down the bow, sits on the ground, head in his hands.

“He’s dead. At least, you said he was dead. That wasn’t like, a metaphor or anything was it? Because usually when someone is dead, they stay dead. “ Darcy rambles when she’s trying to work things out and she takes the steps and kneels in front of him, “He is dead, right? I actually do need to know this, professionally, but also because this is fucking important to us.”

“No. He’s not dead. He just wants me dead.” This sounds like a story and she urges him to continue on, kissing the top of his forehead, “FBI told us he died a hero, had a folded flag in a dresser, and then on an op that’s still so classified that it never existed, I can tell I had a tail that knows me well, and I come face to face with Barney, except he’s taken up the name of my instructor, Trickshot.”

“He come after you himself?” she asks.

“No, he was working for someone else. I got out, and he’s still out there. He’s still my brother, babe, and he wants me dead. Aren’t you supposed to look up to your big brother, and not check the shadows for the arrow with your name on it?”

She takes his hands in hers, intertwines their fingers, “Look up to your memories, look out for the present. I’ll smooth it over with the press, love.”

“I’ll figure something to say, I just, didn’t want the first time to talk it out to be with a shitty reporter. It’s not, it’s personal you know?” He takes their linked hands, turns Darcy around until she’s wrapped in solid arms, gripped more a totem, a token against reality than anything else.

She can inhabit this space as long as he needs her.

                                               *

It feels like her entire life is just being summoned from one area of the tower to another, her little office in the bullpen of handlers being the center, but heigh-o heigh-ho it’s to the fucking labs she goes. Darcy didn’t think she’d miss Jane’s particular brand of crazy, but at least it wasn’t pulling her in three different directions because neither Bruce, Tony nor Charlie want to share her attention. If they could just present a unified front…no scratch that, they should never present a unified front, because that probably means that the world has ended and the afterlife is just as inane as the normal one.

“I can only process one of you at a time,” Darcy snaps her voice like a tightrope, “So appoint yourself a spokesperson and then you can talk to me.” She can’t believe that she finds the labs relaxing most of the time.

The three of them look at each other. Bruce lifts his hands up and walks off, which only leaves Charlie and Tony left.

“Fine,” Charlie says, “We’ve hit a roadblock.”

“It’s not so much—”

“Shut up Tony,” Darcy says, putting her hand over his mouth and leaving it there, “Please continue, Chucky.”

Charlie raises his eyebrows, “I think we might be able to pinpoint where some of the components came from, which might lead us to who made the great de-green machine.”

“Is that what we are calling it now?” Tony squirms under her hand, but Darcy just keeps pressing it harder.

“We’ve got a lot of names for it. I’m still partial to sparky, because while it’s a great bit of engineering, it’s a little rough around the edges, like it was put together quickly and it sparked and bit me and --you don’t need to know the story, do you?”

“Not at all. Save it for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“You are not dragging me to that this year, are you?” Charlie shakes his head in despair, “The last time I went to Virginia with you, we nearly got arrested for stealing manger displays.”

“Do you have a point why I needed to come down here?” Darcy sighs out, because really, she has four to-do lists to work through and she’s down here with Tweedledee and Tweedle-potential-harassment suit instead.

“Right, so there’s this component in the, for lack of a better term, the nervous system, that really is only made by two companies. Or at least, could be made by two people that work for those companies. We need you to track them down.”

“I’m pretty sure we can sic an intelligence agent on that, or even a research analyst.” Something warm and wet is working her way against her hand, and, “Oh gross!” Darcy yelps as Tony licks her hand.

“The thing is, Darcy dear,” Tony says while screwing his mouth around, “They are both in town this weekend.”

“Fantastic, why do you need me?” Darcy wipes her palm on Tony’s shirt.

“They are going to a party this weekend. One that you are on the guest list for and…”

“Tony, the only parties I get invites for are. No!” Darcy suddenly gets it, “No! Ronnie’s party?”

“It’s actually a charity event. Long dresses, nice suits, expensive dinners that could arguably be fed straight to the homeless and get more lasting results, but yes, Veronica’s party.”

“I don’t really have time for this.”

“Take the night off, Darcy.” Charlie says, or more accurately, pleads, “Take Clint. Enjoy yourself for once since your reunion. You’ve been at six and sevens-”

“At six and sevens? JARVIS, stop talking to this man, you are having a horrible influence!” Darcy interjects but Charlie doesn’t wait for a response from JARVIS or anyone else.

“I’m worried about you.” He says, a little quieter and Tony leans in to hear, “You don’t sleep, you need to be reminded to eat and you are starting to bite everybodies head off. Take the night off, even if it is still work. Go get dolled up, your hairs done and put your lipstick on, because you need it.”

Tony looks at Darcy, blinking, trying to see whatever it is that Charlie sees when he looks at her. Darcy suddenly can’t stand to be under this much scrutiny and shifts her weight, “Fine, I can fit it in somehow.”

And she bolts. There’s no other good word for how she leaves the lab, because she just can’t be looked at like that again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archery Porn. My favorite. If you've never seen boffer combat archers do an duel, you are missing out.  
> One more part according to my outline, and then there will be a second story in this arc.
> 
> As always, you can keep up with me, get snippets, prompt me, read all about my exciting life at [ my tumblr](http://twistedingenue.tumblr.com/)   
> I'm real friendly-like, so don't be afraid to drop a line.


	5. Chapter 5

It's by far the strangest briefing that Darcy has ever attended. For one, It's over video feed, and she is staying far away from the camera because at the moment, her hair is half-up and she's only wearing Spanx. She likes Sitwell but not quite that much. She sat Clint down at the camera to make sure he blocked any chance of a show as she continued to get ready.  
   
She doesn't expect Bishop to be one of the talking heads either, but Tony hacked his way to the guest list and found her on there, so she gets read in as well.  
   
"I'm considered," Kate tosses her dark hair and goes utterly vapid, "An up and comer on the social scene," she sticks her tongue out, "Gag me with a spoon, but I play it up at home. Less questions."  
   
"But how did you get invited to Ronnie's party?" Darcy asks, just off camera.  
   
"She babysat for me." Darcy snorts, "Her parents thought it would be a great way to learn responsibility. Mostly she drank and made out with whatever random she was dating. Now she thinks that means she's like my mentor, and invites me to these things. Some are fun." Kate is using the camera as her own personal makeup mirror, carefully applying eyeliner, "But mostly it's just pretending I haven't a real thought in my head."  
   
"Isn't that kind of at odds with your government internship?" Darcy asks.  
   
"Money can buy brains, Lewis." She responds eyes open wide, looking straight up as she puts on mascara, "And people see what they expect. I'm just another rich kid starting on third base, you know?"  
   
Sitwell goes over who they are looking for, a couple of R&D heads with talent both as management and as engineers in their own right, some technical details that she had tuned Tony out about. Neither man was considered complicit in the weapons building, but their contacts were suspect.  
   
But mostly, it's supposed to be a fun night. She’s not sure if that’s actually what’s going to happening, seeing as it’s her cousins party and that means dealing with her cousins, but it is at least a night away from her desk.

And that’s a start.

*  
“We can turn back now, Barton.” Darcy says, just before they enter the building where Veronica Lewis’s Party, ostensibly for charity but mostly for her ego, is being held. “For real, we can take our finely dressed selves to McDonalds and be happier.”

“Darcy,” Clint has this way of glaring and smiling at the same time, and yeah Darcy finds it sexy as hell but has been having trouble giving it a name. Slaring? Glimling? “You look amazing,” she does. Pepper has people who can find and get a dress tailored on a moments notice, and the long, brilliant blue dress with the sweetheart neckline is gorgeous on her, “And you have nothing to be ashamed of here, and your cousins are never ever going to catch up to what you do.” And the glare turns into a mischievous smile, “And do you really want to leave the mission up to Kate to complete?”

“Well, if it’s for the mission, I suppose I can be arm candy for the night.” Darcy says, “Help me eat all the food?” She says, because while eating all the food still does not solve any of her familial problems, it’s satisfying. And tasty.

“Darcy!” Abby smiles over the heads of the other attendees, “It’s really good to see you outside of television.” Abby’s hand lingers on her husbands arm for a moment before walking over and taking the spot between Darcy and Clint and taking their arms, “I saw that interview where Tony Stark pretty much revealed to the world what he wears under his suit…”

“He lies, by the way, he wears clothes. If it’s not an emergancy he even has special ones. The suits would be very uncomfortable if he were naked.”

“I know Tony well enough to know to take anything he says with many grains of salt. Possibly the entire shaker.”

Clint laughs, “I am saving that one. I will provide credit.”

“Free of charge, good sir.” Abigail makes a face, “You missed dinner, it was impressive. Daniel was just leaving, but he wanted to say hello and that he’d love to sit and pick your brain about how to deal with the family.” She looks around nervously, “Look, before the night really gets going I just…I just need to apologize for being a shit our entire lives.”

Darcy is taken aback, and almost physically takes a step back as well, “Abigail…”

“I know this isn’t about me, but I need to say it, I’ve always just taken the lead from the rest of the family, but watching you and your work, and talking with Daniel, I really…I’m going to try to do better by you. Stand up more. Bear with me while I change?”

“I…uh,” and it’s a small weight that’s off her back, and she can hear her mother’s voice telling her what to do, “Of course Abby. That’s what family is supposed to do.”

Abigail gives them both small hugs, “Thank you. I should mingle more, I’m trying to actually get the donations rolling in, since Veronica forgot that part of the whole throwing a charity dinner thing.”

Darcy watches her as she glides away and effortlessly changes her demeanor from forward and nervous to graceful and charming, “The man she married might just be my hero.”

“See, this was a good idea to come.” Clint points out, “Family good. Family not wanting to bite your head off even better.”

“I’m fairly sure the other two-thirds have taken her share.” Darcy grumbles, “I can see Dr Liu over there, but I don’t see Mr Mueller anywhere. Is that the same Dr Liu that Tony…”

“Yep. Same one.”

“Clearly, he must be the evil one. Once Stark steals your soul it’s just a downward spiral from there.”

*  
“Darcy!” Another familiar voice says then softer, “Come on, kiddo, another person to meet.”

“The second third of my worst nightmare,” Darcy mutters, “Veronica! Thank you for inviting us!”

“I only wish you could have let us know sooner, but I suppose that you don’t have the time for your family that you once did.” Ronnie waves it off with the lilt in her voice that could be a sneer if you listened to it sideways, “Anyways, I wanted you to meet my little protegee!”

Kate is beautiful. Darcy has only seen her on the range or covered in sweat from the gym, but wow, paradigm shift. There, she’s mostly athletic grace and smartass, common enough throughout the building but here, she’s every inch the spoiled brat that Darcy has seen throughout her life through her cousins, right down to the way she tilts her head and rolls her eyes when Ronnie calls her over.

Oh yes, Darcy’s favorite hobby, taking the wind out of Ronnie’s sails.

“Miss Bishop!” Darcy gushes and watches as Ronnie’s smile screws up in her face in frustration.

“Ms Lewis, Mr Barton,” Kate says with a nod of her head, “lovely to see you outside of the office.”

“How do you know each other?” Ronnie says confused.

Kate affects her most insipid voice, and she actually sounds like Ronnie did as a teenager, “I told you! I got an internship at SHIELD for after school. Ms Lewis helped me with some of my paperwork, and Mr Barton was in her office.”

“Even running with the big dogs, Darcy, you just do the paperwork.” Ronnie says, and Darcy has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. 

“Paperwork is probably the most dangerous occupation at the Initiative though,” Clint muses, “Papercuts, inventory disputes, the blood just gets everywhere. I’ve spent my entire career avoiding it. Too dangerous for my taste.” 

If there ever was a reason to love Clint Barton, it’s when he goes for charming asshole. Kate side eyes them while inching closer to Ronnie and says, “It’s really a great opportunity for me Ronnie. I mean, it’s SHIELD, like the hottest thing going right now.”

A door opens and Darcy is momentarily distracted by it, can’t quite make out the figure that rapidly closes the door behind him. That it’s a man is about all she can tell, and that his movements and bearing are familiar, but almost shifted from what she knows.

It’s disturbing, actually.

Ronnie spots her friends and moves on. “Wow,” Kate says, slipping back into herself, or at least the Kate that Darcy actually recognizes, “I’d say your cousin knows how to do a backwards compliment like whoa but I think she forgot the compliment part.”

Darcy shrugs it off, “Any sign of Mueller?” She looks back at the closed door. Clint pinches his eyebrows together, “I thought I saw something, but it was just someone leaving.”

“No Mueller, I’m going to try to talk to Liu.” Kate says.

“Not a bad idea, he knows us. Or at least knows of us, and we might scare him off if we start asking him too many questions.”

*  
“It’s….comforting to know that there is something that Bishop is bad at,” Clint has maneuvered Darcy to a slightly less populated spot to watch Kate. They’ve chatted and mingled about as well, mostly being introduced to people by Abby. Kate’s been trying to get close to Dr Liu but she’s being left behind.

“Is it that she’s bad, or that her act just isn’t right for here?” Darcy asks. Clint tends to operate on instinct first, and then let that instinct form the basis for his analysis of a situation. He’s not the best handler, they both know that, but he’s good and figuring out a solution around a problem.

“Both, I think. Subterfuge may not suit her, I think she’s more the type to go at things straightforward. She knows how to, um a good way to put it is code-switch, I guess. She’s entirely different in training than she is here. She’s a little too passive here for this to work.” Kate finally gets Liu’s attention with a smile that’s a little shy and a hand placed on his arm. Liu looks her up and down, and barely holds back a leer, and Clint stiffens, “Yeah, I’m not having any of that.”

“She’s a pretty girl giving and older guy attention. Seems an effective strategy to me.” Darcy shrugs.

“When you never have to be seen in the same social circles, yes, when you have a codename and layered identities, sure, it can be useful,” Clint hands Darcy the drink he was holding, “But it’s an amateur mistake here, and one that has much longer effects than she’d be willing to admit.” He strides over to Liu and begins derailing the conversation. Darcy can’t tell what he’s saying, but he moves Kate’s hand from the man’s arm and for just a moment, shock comes over her before she can resume her empty-headed smile.

“Oh look,” Ronnie says, strolling up beside her, “I thought he was a little old for you, but here’s that man of,” she laughs in a short burst, ”yours, chumming up with an even younger girl. She’s still in high school, for shame.”

“Baseless, and you know it Veronica,” Darcy does roll her eyes this time, “Try harder.”

Ronnie does keep talking, but her attention is snapped to the sound of another person trying to be sneaky. This time, she catches sight of him before the door closes; the same man, the same familiar way of holding his body, but his frame is broader, the hair redder and wronger than what she’s used to looking for. There’s no kindness in the tension of movement.

But she knows it, and once the man is gone she looks back at Clint and keeps herself from just running the hell out of there in her pretty dress.

“…Can’t even pay attention when someone is talking to you.” Ronnie says darkly, “Didn’t they teach you manners in the ass end of no where?”

“Okay, really, what is your problem with me?” Darcy snaps and struggles to keep her voice under control, “You’ve never liked me, but I figured when we became adults we could at least be, you know, adult in public.”

Ronnie outright sneers and Darcy is thankful that they have at least decided to have this spat in an area not completely crowded by powerful, elite money types, “You think you have it so good, like a little rags to riches story? You somehow blunder into the wrong place at the right time and all of a sudden you get to be in the middle of everything. You don’t have to know the rules or play the games, you just get to waltz in and be important and a little bit famous.”

“I have worked my ass off Veronica Lewis, every step of the way, even if I lucked into the circumstances that led me directly here, and even if I hadn’t, I would still be working so damn hard at whatever I was doing that I’d still be on my way to important.” Darcy seethes through the words, “Because I am just as important as you are, and that is something I learned in the back end of nowhere, and I don’t know why you never did.”

A flash goes off and they both look up to see a photographer taking a picture of them with a satisfied and smug upturned lips. Darcy doesn’t have time to try to get the camera away or talk to either of them before she hears the shots coming from outside the hall, the telltale scream that’s cut off before it can be finished. Ronnie’s looking at her in horror, saying something about how of course this happened while Darcy’s here but she’s only a few steps behind Darcy as she runs, dress and heels and all in the direction of the shot.

Clint and Kate get there at the same time, a narrow hallway and a blind corner, where a man is crumpled on the floor, blood seeping out of him. Kate bends down, not caring how she’s dressed to check his pulse and nods slowly.

“Mueller?” Darcy asks, knowing the answer, but just needing to say something anything.

“Mueller.” Clint confirms, getting out his cell phone and dialing and he turns to talk a little more privately, probably straight with Sitwell. 

“Well, I guess we can stop pressing on Liu, then.” Darcy says, “I think we found our supplier.”

“Oh god, is he dead?” Ronnie babbles, “I mean, I just invited him, he was so happy to be coming, the charity is really important to him and Dad thinks that he’s….oh god he’s dead.” Darcy puts an arm around her cousin, tries to comfort her.

Clint finishes the call, “Anyone see anything unusual?”

“I thought I saw you, but not you.” Darcy stammers out, and watches as Clint pales and sucks in a breath, “Yeah, I know. I saw him twice, and I know what a Barton boy looks like.”

“What? What am I missing here?” Kate says, moving from Mueller’s body to hold onto Ronnie as well, who has gone from babbling to just crying but thankfully not retching. Darcy is oddly proud of her cousin for that. But Lewis women have always been tough.

“Barton boys be trouble.” Darcy says, “All different sorts of trouble, but trouble nonetheless.”  
*  
There’s not really any room to breathe after that, because it’s a briefing for all four of them, Ronnie included. She walks out of her discussion with Sitwell still stunned, but her breathing is even, and her arms crossed over her chest, slumped in on herself.

“Is this what you deal with all the time?” she asks Darcy in a harsh voice.

“Sometimes. Work is stressful.” She shrugs, “I deal.”

Ronnie snorts, “Yeah, better you than me. I wasn’t born for this shit.” Before she’s escorted out of the SHIELD facility she mentions, “I guess that’s why the world needs people like you.” But she doesn’t explain herself, just leaves Darcy shaking her head.

It’s been a long night, and she’s not even near their quarters when she’s reviewing her google alerts and sees that the photographer has already released the photo of their arguement to the gossipmongers with the byline, “LEWIS SHOWDOWN”

Which is just perfect, because mom is going to read that, and there’s going to be a call and it just isn’t going to be any fun. Darcy thought she was past all this, and she doesn’t feel small against her cousin anymore, she just feels exhausted. And somewhere in the back of her head is a voice telling her, sounding so much like Ronnie, that a backcountry girl has no business in a pretty dress, bossing heroes around, and getting above herself.

When she gets to her room, sleep doesn’t come. And when Clint finally finishes his debrief, sleep still doesn’t come, but at least it’s more comfortable to curl in on him, to follow the lines of his body and stare at the ceiling together.

*  
“No mom, I don’t have time for this. No, not at all. Please, I have to get to work…no, Ronnie’s okay, just a little shocked. Well it was her first dead body mom, and oh god mom, no it wasn’t my first. That boat sailed awhile ago. I need to work mom, that’s how it’ll get better. Yeah, love you too.” She stutters out, finally throwing the phone against the bed, missing Clint by an inch.

“Aim’s improving.” He tries to joke.

“She wants me to apologize to Ronnie for bringing work to her door. Fuck that, it was going to hit her last night if we were there or not.” Clint’s quiet, lips pressed together as if he is on the verge of speaking but can’t open his mouth to find the words, “And before you even try, it’s not your fault if it was…your brother.”

“Are you sure it was him?” he bites back, not so much with venom but with impulse.

“Well, we’ve never been formally introduced.” Darcy loves sarcasm. It’s her true love. Forever and always.

“Well, he doesn’t have a good track record with the girls I’ve brought home before,” because clearly sarcasm is his forever and always too, “Some first op for Kate, huh?”

“That was an op? We clearly need a better definition of a party, even if it’s a working party.”

“Of course it was an op, at least for her, and she was miserable at it. Too close to home to see what she can really do for intel gathering.” Clint assesses, “I’d hand her over to Nat for that, but maybe Maria would be better. I don’t think Kate’s really the disguise and infiltration sort.”

Darcy looks at him, hands on her hips, “You take her rather seriously. You talk to the other agents, and they don’t. What are you seeing that they aren’t?”

Clint looks down at his hands, wrings them into cracking his knuckles from where he’s sitting on the bed, “My replacement.” He looks up, has to see that Darcy is blinking slowly, “I see my replacement, and I don’t want a screwup taking up space.”

“Why would they replace you, sweetheart? Something I don’t know?” Darcy says, and she’s okay with the little bit of fear in her voice.

One of the things she really likes about Clint is that when they are here together, there’s not brain to face filter, and everything will show on his really expressive face, “Oh baby no. I’m fine, it’s just, that can’t last forever, right? I have to know that. Eventually, someone younger, someone better will have to come in and I…” and he’s angry about it, he seethes underneath the final words.

“Would that be so bad?” Darcy says in a small voice, “Be so bad to be able to settle down, take it a bit slower. I always thought…”

“Thought what?” he says, making false starts for more words.

“I don’t know, get married. Kids if you wanted them, I’m kinda ambivalent. Just, I don’t expect you to ever give up SHIELD, just the part where every day when you go to work, you don’t come home two days closer to death.”

His face, his eyes pin her to where she stands. He roughly stands and cradles her shoulders in his strong, but shaking arms, kissing the top of her head before walking out. It’s an I love you that hurts more than helps.

*  
Charlie is the only one down in the labs, which have been swept clean, and he’s putting equipement and notebooks into boxes.

“Did the band break up?” Darcy says, “What’s going on?”

“We’re done, so I’m packing up and going back to class. Think I can convince my professors I can get credit for this? I’ll have to ask.”

“Well that’s great, isn’t it? You figured it out, can reproduce the happy laser?” Darcy brightens, finally something fucking good coming out of the day.

Charlie sighs, wrapping some delicate looking screwdrivers in tissue, “Darcy, no. We couldn’t. Look, I know you are used to Tony and science always winning the day, that some gadget will fall out of the sky and just, yeah, without Mueller and those components, there’s nothing more we can do. So it’s time to go home.” He looks at Darcy and must see her falling face, because he closes his eyes and scrunches up his face with worry, “Darcy…”

“Yeah, okay. You give up and bad guys sometimes get away.”

“If we get any new leads, I’m sure Tony will drag me back, and I’ve got a great deal to work with, AI wise, but…Darcy, sometimes the scientific method is all background noise. And if this isn’t our type of science, then it doesn’t really matter what we do. Just have to hope it won’t be reproduced.” Charlie suddenly looks very old, older than the kid she helped recruit. Because he’s not a kid, and she can see the man he’s shaping up to be, thoughtful and a little annoying, but that might just be Starks influence, and after the time spent here, she can see a bit of Banner too, a struggling staidness in his movements.

“Was just hoping to keep someone else on my side around here, I guess. Coming in to see you has been one of my few reprieves lately…” Darcy mutters, “I’ll—”

“Darcy, get some sleep, if you can’t get some help.” Staid went out the picture apparently, “You need to slow the fuck down. You have assistants, use them. You’ve been working with them, they’ll be fine. I know you aren’t an agent, and no wait, I’m going back to that in a minute, I know you aren’t an agent, but SHIELD can’t just keep using you up like they are without some sort of additional help.”

Darcy can’t move, can’t really speak or articulate anything other than a little whimper when she breathes.

“And I’m going back, why aren’t you an agent? You do all the work of one, You’ve told me that you can pass their qualifications, so why aren’t you one? You get more SHIELD resources when you do, or at least so I’m lead to believe. If it’s your pride…”

“It’s not my pride.” Darcy snaps, and wow, she’s been doing that a lot lately, “It’s that I don’t want to be an agent, I don’t want to work directly for SHIELD rather than the Initiative. I don’t to be put through their ringer rather than my own. At least mine is of my own making.”

Charlie considers her answer, looks at the whole her and tapes up a box, “That was my last one.”

“I think I got it, Charlie. Gonna miss you.” Darcy says, looking down. The floor has been so interesting lately the way she keeps looking at it.

“God, I’m not. Well you, sure, but here? No way.” He smiles and walks around the box to hug Darcy.

“You keep saying that, and I’m sending Stark to hang out with you. Guest lecturer. He’ll hold it in a bar and outdrink everyone and I’ll tie you to his free hand.”

Exasperated isn’t Charlie’s best look, but it’s fond, and he gives her a kiss on the cheek, “I’ll see you in my private version of hell then, Lewis.” And he leaves and he’s gone.

Darcy looks over the lab, all cleaned up and cleared out, “Yeah, private version of hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never said it was going to be a happy ending.  
> Watch for the sequel, "at night we walk into our houses and burn" coming soon.
> 
> And as always, you can find me at [ My Tumblr](http://www.twistedingenue.tumblr.com) where you can also keep track of what I am working on.
> 
> If you've read this far, would you prefer the sequel to come out as a one shot or as a wip?

**Author's Note:**

> Breaking my own rule about WIPs so that I can get this out of my head.


End file.
